Rediscovery
by Whimsical Omelettes
Summary: Slight AU - I've only just twisted the plot a little... Orihime passes on to Soul Society... and in her wake, Ichigo tries to figure out where she's gone.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

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Chapter 1: Death by Accident

"No… Tatsuki, I'll talk to you later, okay?"

At first glance, people would probably notice her because of her 'wealthy endowment'. If they bothered at all to get to know the girl with 'big boobs', they might overlook her chest and discover more hidden and positive traits in her good character.

"Ah… that's her, the beauty of Karakura High School…" The boys would murmur amongst themselves, feasting their eyes on her curvaceous figure.

"She's so pretty…" The girls would lament enviously, examining her breasts and legs critically, trying to find – and failing utterly – a single flaw in the smooth, alabaster skin, and that long, lustrous burnt autumn-orange hair.

Passersby would stop and stare for a while, and blink the fogginess in their eyes away, and move on with their separate lives. That girl exuded a divine aura that set her apart from people of the norm. Some would come over and engage her in small talk, merely out of curiosity; while others could care less, and their images of her would slowly rust into red dust in their minds after a few days. A handful of the braver ones, she could tell, were drawn to her only because of her high spiritual energy. Some humans are more sensitive than others, after all.

All that attention, and Orihime was – more or less – oblivious to that.

She gets good grades and fights her way into the top 20 ranking in Karakura High School, seniors' division. Her teachers would smile and occasionally ruffle her hair, showering her with congratulations that were getting just a tad bit old to hear. They said that she could enter Tokyo University if she kept her standards up, and that she'll be a valuable asset to the community.

Orihime would smile, say thanks, and take leave quickly.

She wanted to hear something else. All that praise from both teachers and friends alike was fine and okay, she deserved them, but she desired something else. More than just praise, from someone special.

Right now, while pocketing her mobile phone, she tried valiantly to fit one of the bulkier grocery bags beneath her small arms, and balance a roast chicken platter on top of her relatively flat head. Ah. She felt the chicken wobbling above her, and the weight slanted to the left side. Teetering just a little, and it fell.

Before hitting the grey pavement, however, a longer arm reached out and caught the platter with ease.

Orihime looked up, looked past the similarly grey Karakura High School boys' uniform, recognized the sharp chin, narrow jawline, and finely chiseled nose. All the good features of his face paled in comparison to his gaze, though, and now it was centered on her, with a hint of amusement and exasperation. That look made her knees weak, and she knew all along that only HE could have that effect on her. Only, if only he_ knew_. If only he knew that she didn't mind his natural orange hair color, instead finding his quirky sense of humor endearingly funny, even though most of his jokes weren't understood fully. She wished for all her heart that he would at least make an effort to acknowledge her feelings for him. Not a day passed without her stopping to pause in front of her mirror, adjust her hair into the familiar, casual windblown style, and indulge in the fantasy of her confessing and he, accepting. They would hold hands, embrace each other, and…

Continuing down that train of thought would only make her blush, and he to question her, so she put a dam to her thoughts, all the while smiling at him in gratitude.

"Thank you so much, Kurosaki-kun." If only he would know that she wanted badly to refer to him by his given name… Ichigo.

Kurosaki Ichigo took those heavy grocery bags under and out of her arms, ignoring her feeble protests. He cocked his head to the side, looking at her quizzically.

"Come on. I'll walk you home." He said. Without waiting for her reply, he spun off and walked into the setting sun, which dimmed his silhouette, casting him in a golden glow of late-afternoon sunlight. Her look of longing was so palpable, that young man was a dunce for not noticing.

Then suddenly, the deputy soul reaper badge attached to his belt shuddered, and yelled out in a mini robot voice, "HOLLOW! HOLLOW! HOLLOW!"

Ichigo, for his part, set Orihime's groceries down first, and gave her an apologetic glance, before disappearing in a blurry shimmer, right in front of her. He was there for a moment, and then he wasn't. The grocery bags toppled over, spilling the potatoes and carrots on the sidewalk.

Orihime stood there, momentarily stunned. Sure, she understood his duties as a deputy soul reaper. Sure, she knew the slaying of hollows were actually good for them, purifying their hatred of mankind and sending them to Soul Society, where their chaotic souls would be at rest. Sure, she knew that he put duty foremost, before anything else. She was the 'anything else'. Whenever that badge shrieked and announced the close presence of malevolent spirits, he would be off in a dash. It didn't matter when; at school, he shouted a hasty excuse; and like now, he just gave her a look of apology.

What girl in her right mind would ever fall in love with a guy like him?

There wasn't a day, where she'd blame herself for her unrequited affections, wanting to sever her feelings for good. Everyday she tried, with little results.

She loved him far too much, that ignorant bastard.

Biting her lip to stop the bitterness from travelling to her eyes, that will no doubt trigger the flowing of tears, she gave a shaky sigh and bent down, returning the askew vegetables into the bag.

Something felt wrong. The sense was strong and pungent, and a hovering unease settled in deep within the recesses of her mind, pausing her movements. The ground beneath her vibrated slightly, announcing the arrival of an incoming vehicle. Her back felt unexpectedly warm. She could see her darkening shadow growing clearer in the outlines, as the artificial yellow light surrounded her in a semicircle.

The rush of horns blaring in the silent air, before coming in contact with her bent body.

That was the last thing she heard, before closing her eyes forever.

…

The rest of the week was hung in austere gloom, at the death of a student in Karakura High School.

Students in her class shed tears only for the sake of mourning her. The teachers' eyes were also rimmed with red. At some point in History class, Ms Sato broke down, and sobbed profusely, losing her composure in front of moody students. Between gasps and sniffles, she reminisced, along with the rest of the class, about Orihime being an unmeasurably smart student, always taking the initiative in class, breaking the attendance records, helping out the teachers… etc.

Tatsuki stared out at the window, appraising the blue sky and white clouds. Her sense of hearing had diminished. She had no heart to listen to anybody.

Today was track and field day, so many people were gathered at the field, wearing shirts of different colors of different teams, stretching and warming up before the competitions. A sparrow hovered at the windowsill, and she didn't even blink. Her eyes were empty and sunken.

Chad and Uryu were in pitiful but identical states. Uryu kept fingering his needle pouch, and when he withdrew his finger, it was covered in small punctures that were bleeding. Chad stared straight ahead, ever the strongest in terms of emotional stability, but you'd get the sense he wasn't in his body.

Diagonal from Chad's place, a desk was unoccupied.

Kurosaki Ichigo was absent today.

…

Opening her eyes required a Herculean effort.

When she did, the bright glare made her close them again.

Meh.

She felt for something beyond her fingertips, finding nothing but only warmth, trailing down her arm and warming her heart. She felt comfortable, all troublesome thoughts brushed away with a feather-light pressure. She tipped her head back, feeling the long strands of her thick hair brushing at her knees. Hm? She reopened her eyes, gradually adjusting themselves to the blinding light. Since when had her hair grew that long?

The orange tresses retained the same shade of auburn, but it flowed past her chest, past the triangle between her legs, and tickled her shins. Eh?

She was naked, too. Nothing wrong with her limbs. In fact, they felt lighter than they had ever been. She waved her arms up and down, snickering to herself as she imagined how Ichigo would see her.

But at least she was warm. The light mellowed out around her, and she looked around, seeing nothing beyond the intense golden-white, glittering field. The color reminded her of the sunset.

"That's strange…" She murmured softly, rocking to and fro on her heels thoughtfully. She couldn't remember anything that happened previously, that something that perhaps landed her in this oblivion. Only the name, Ichigo… Ichigo…. Ichigo. She scrunched her nose up, twisting and turning the name into anagrams that didn't make sense.

And the field whitened, forcing her to close her eyes once more. She heard bells chiming, soft piano music playing, but that must be in her head.

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A/N: I accidentally wrote the wrong name... Hehe... Story will continue.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

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Chapter 2: Meeting, and embracing Death

"Good morning my sweeties!" Kurosaki Isshin sang, bounding towards his twin daughters with a full-blown enthusiasm. Yuzu was by the stove, stirring curry in a sweet-smelling pot; Karin sat at the dining table, reading the newspaper. They looked up simultaneously, expecting the worst. Yuzu carefully removed the ladle from the curry, and untied her flowery apron. Karin folded the newspaper in half, and arranged her features into a mask of indifference.

Like a predator chasing after a prey, Isshin was gaining on them.

Although the twins were about five feet away from each other, doing their usual business, their father, with an almost uncannily creepy ability, would be able to stretch his arms wide enough to envelope them in a tight morning hug that reeked of aspirins and sterile medicine equipment. His clinic was already opened at six in the morning, and during his breakfast break, he'd leave the receptionist at the desk, and lumber into the kitchen. Karin and Yuzu had rather preferred the simple system of delivering his breakfast and forcing him to eat at his workplace, but they knew that he hated to be alone, so they tolerated his many childish antics with as much maturity as they could muster.

One hairy arm towards Yuzu, and the other extended to Karin. His watch glinted, showing that fifteen minutes had passed. The twins were due at school in approximately ten minutes.

The twins, not wanting to waste time humouring their father, reacted at the same moment.

Yuzu slapped the ladle hard on Isshin's fingers. Karin dodged under the table and thrust the dusty newspaper into his face.

"Good morning, Daddy." They spoke in even monotones. Yuzu offered a guilty smile at having had hurt her father; Karin turned away with a huff.

The kitchen was rowdy, as always. The only person absent was Kurosaki Ichigo. If he were here, he would be excused from the morning hug, but that wouldn't stop him from standing up for his sisters, and 'accidentally' kneeing his father's face. Isshin might not have liked the idea of being bested by his eldest son, but it was his own fault for glomping his children like that. He couldn't blame them for having their guard up.

Yuzu wiped the ladle, and proceeded to scoop equal portions for everyone. At the fourth bowl, she paused momentarily.

"Should I include Ichi-nii's helping? Will he be coming downstairs today?" She asked of Karin and Isshin in a small voice. Her dainty fingers clamped down on the ladle unforgivingly, her knuckles whitening.

Karin observed her sister in concern, and perked her ears up for traces of footsteps above the kitchen landing.

There were some repetitive creaks of the wooden floorboards, but that was probably caused by her immature father, who had the annoying habit of tapping his heels to the floor in rhythm to his chewing regimen.

"… why don't you leave some for Ichi-nii? We don't know if he'll come down today." Karin finally replied, and jabbed her chopsticks in the air at some invisible ghost lurking above their dining table. Ghosts ruined her appetite. But the worry over her brother's well-being dug a deep black hole in her heart, and the temptation of the curry before her had long vanished. She discarded her chopsticks, and pushed her bowl away glumly. The ghost, not knowing any better, immediately zoomed in on the untouched food, non-existent saliva slobbering the white, steaming rice. Karin didn't have the energy to punch it back to its rightful place.

Yuzu nodded mutely. The ladle dropped with a clang back into the pot.

Isshin was the only person who had had any decent appreciation for the food. He gobbled down Yuzu and Karin's helpings, unheeding the ghost's murderous glare.

"Dad." Karin watched her father, her tone tinged with slight disgust. "You should go talk to Ichi-nii."

"Yes! Find out what's making him so down!" Yuzu immediately seconded the opinion. She banged the table with her small fist, making the dishes and bowls shake and tremble against each other. Isshin's surprised expression earned him another bang, only this time, the ground beneath them seemed to tremble too. He started sweating bullets. Yuzu was usually a soft-spoken daughter, while Karin had a more temperamental attitude. Their mutual concern mirrored each other's gazes, and he felt uncomfortable under their scrutiny.

"Dad! You can't possibly be so insensitive!" Yuzu's eyes were brimmed with premature tears, threatening to spill forth at any point. Karin observed the rare family drama unfold, holding her breath when her dad's hand slackened on the spoon.

Isshin commenced eating, slurping his lemon tea leisurely. Yuzu and Karin regarded him with wide-eyed confusion and open mouths, until Yuzu finally lost it, ran up the stairs, her small feet going 'thump, thump, thump', her new-found rebellious streak echoing across the protesting floorboards.

Karin, who wasn't a dramatic person to begin with, merely cast her father a resentful look. She stood up and took her bag, leaving the house with a satisfyingly loud slamming of the front door.

"He'll be fine…" Isshin muttered through a mouthful of sticky rice.

He burped. The happy end to his breakfast, albeit a sour thirty-minute ritual that ended in disagreements.

As a favour to both of his darlings, he washed the dishes and cleared the table, wiping down every inch of the glassed surface that even Yuzu, a picky housekeeper, would have been impressed.

As a bonus, he waited patiently in the living room for Yuzu to stomp down the stairs, throw her backpack over her shoulders, jangle the house keys, and lock the door of the house. Although his favourite medical drama was on, he knew that restoring the balance in his family life was more crucial. Some muffled crashing in the second storey affirmed his theory.

His son was drowning in an ocean of sadness.

And it's time for Isshin to drag Ichigo out from the watery, treacherous depths.

…

Orihime fingered the teal blue clips on the collar of her new-looking kimono, hoping against hope that her spirits would appear before her in comet-shaped arcs and feeling the familiar flashy butter-yellow light enveloping her very figure, as the core of her power – kindly gifted by the Hōgyoku – took on the forms of six miniature figurines that happened to possess awesome rejection shields and the ability to converse with their keeper. At the very least, she needed to keep them updated on the current events.

"Shun'ō…

"Ayame…

"Hinagiku…

"Baigon…

"Lily…

"… and Tsubaki!"

The incantations died on her lips, as six specks of bright light shimmered into view. The block of worry weighting on her chest was quickly replaced by relief. If she had lose them, the consequences would have been excruciatingly painful, both physically and mentally. Her spirits were _her_.

A spirit with a fit build, clothed in black and red, zoomed in onto Orihime's face. A comical vein popped out on his forehead, and he kicked her nose with those sharp blades sticking out on his shins.

This was a normal occurrence. Tsubaki attacked anyone who got on his nerves.

"How dare you called me last, woman?! And I'm your most powerful spirit too!" He screeched in that abnormally shrill voice of his. Orihime smiled weakly, rubbing the sore spot on her nose. The other spirits, wisely choosing to NOT take offence, kept silent throughout the proceedings.

Shun'ō meandered up to Orihime, his topknot swishing to and fro like the delicate seeds of a dandelion flower. "Are you okay, Orihime?"

"We don't sense any hostile spirits or hollows, so why did you-" Tsubaki's sentence was cut short, as his whole frame shuddered.

Orihime sat down, the energy drained out of her. She brought her legs to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her knees, allowing the spirits to have time to absorb everything that had happened, that started with the car crash. The cold and dreary vibe she felt earlier was enough of an answer. She knew that her spirits' minds were buzzing with unasked questions.

Tsubaki, for the first time ever, was at a loss with words. Shun'ō's mellow light dimmed slightly, as he perceived his keeper's tortured expression thoughtfully. He didn't blame her.

The same couldn't be said for Tsubaki, though.

"Excuse me, but that's the lamest way to die, WOMAN!" His shout echoed in the windy landscape, and Orihime felt as though Karakura Town could sense the devastation underlying his accusation. His voice sounded strained, and even if Orihime tried to tell him off, he would ignore her advice completely. So she didn't say anything, quietly letting him spill out all of his frustration.

The other spirits sturdily maintained their composure, adamantly preventing the realization from reducing them into a yelling fit, like their fellow spirit companion.

Shun'ō appraised the grey sky, scattered with darker thunder clouds, and his thin eyebrows creased together. He flew to Tsubaki's side, and gripped the attacker's shoulders.

Over Tsubaki's enraged screams, he called to Orihime, "We'll see you again! In Soul Society…" The last words were nearly uncaught, as all six spirits reverted back into their passive states. The blue hairclips glimmered strangely, giving off a pale glow.

Orihime huddled closer into her defensive posture, burying her head deeper within the folds of her thin arms. Her hair fluttered in the wind, bringing out the stark contrast of the moody landscape, with the fiery autumn shade of her tresses.

_"Orihime…"_

_"Hm?" She looked over her shoulder, her heartbeat escalating as his serious face, humble but soft brown eyes and angular face loomed before her. He was so close. _

_He took a deep breath, preparing himself for God-knows-what. The long orange bangs shielded his wilful gaze, and anticipation thrashed in her chest. How she adored him, so much… What was he going to ask her? She tried not to imagine impossible things, things like him asking her out or any girly fantasy nonsense. She was so attuned to his straightforward and clueless handling of females, and Ichigo was one person who rarely dragged out a sentence for long. He made his point clear and fast, and yet, this time, he was hesitating. _

_He cleared his throat, but not after looking away, biting his lip nervously. _

_"Do you know where Rukia is? I need to ask her something about my regained powers." _

_Just with that simple question, her heart felt like it was about to explode. In a bad way. The magic of the moment, their only chances of being close together, evaporated in the white noise of the school bell and students' footsteps trampling the corridors. The noise of reality. The noose of her imaginations. _

_Always, always it was Rukia. It was wrong to feel jealous for her good friend, but what's harder, was when Orihime knew that Rukia excelled at positively everthing. Kuchiki Rukia, her rival in love; although Orihime felt uncomfortable to use such a word for this love triangle. _

_ Rukia was knowledgeable about almost everything, from Ichigo's manifestation of great powers, to his personal life. Perhaps that was where Orihime lost; knowledge of Ichigo. _

_But it wasn't as if he told her a lot of things about himself. Rather, he seemed to avoid her, preferring to hang out with Chad or Renji. _

_Why?_

Her head felt like it was being cut open.

Ichigo…

Ichigo…

The name shone through the chaos in her brain. It hovered, offering a chance.

She could either remain at this dismal place, bawling her eyes out…

Or… She could stand up, and search for answers in Soul Society.

She didn't want to disappoint her spirits.

…

"Yo! Ichigo!" Kon, the yellow stuffed lion who was a big fat pain in the ass, especially during times like these, darted out from the closet and jumped onto Ichigo's bed.

Ichigo was by his desk, his head low, his bangs shrouding his eyes.

"Ichigo! What's up?" The doll, in an attempt to cheer his host up, clambered over to Ichigo's pillow, and sat on it, knowing that that was what pissed him off the most. If there was anything Ichigo hated, it was the smell of Kon's butt suffusing his oxygen intake, as he laid his head back against the pillow.

Ichigo didn't react. Or rather, he was too lazy to even lift his head up.

Kon's button eyes lost some of their shine; Orihime was dead, he knew that too…

But that, to him, was not enough of a reason for Ichigo to descend into a state of emo adolescent regret!

The doll bounded up to the desk, dislodging some books and papers in his way. Ichigo didn't budge. He was facing away from Kon, but Kon could feel the brooding silence that emanated from his host's very core.

"Ichigo! Snap! Out! Of! Your! Funk!" The stuffed lion punctuated each word with a blow. Not that he could cause much damage with his soft paws, but it was annoying enough to make the deputy soul reaper 'snap out', by sweeping his long, muscled arm across the desk, sending Kon flying.

"Leave me alone." His voice was muffled.

Kon rolled his button eyes, and opened his mouth, singing,

"Ichigo and Orihime sittin' in a tree,  
K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

Any effect? He arched his non-existent neck as far as it would go, peering up at the mop of messy orange locks. He had always secretly admired Ichigo's hair, with its badass shade and I-don't-care ends sticking up, although the doll would never admit that.

There was a creak. Coming from his chair. Kon stood up straight, hope racing through his stuffed body.

Slowly, very slowly, the orange-haired Karakura student sat up, bracing his chin on his palm, looking in a straight, albeit unfocused line. The sorrow in them was so palpable, that Kon couldn't help shivering at the sudden drop of temperature in the room. There was the apparent reason of his mourning for Orihime, whom Kon also felt sorry for - being killed by an incoming truck was hardly any exciting way to die - but something else flickered in the young man's eyes. A spark, nonetheless, but Kon, who prided himself as a very sharp observer, immediately noticed.

He wanted to suppress his urge to laugh, then.

It was so obvious that his master was head over heels sunk in depressed stupor for his deceased lady friend. Not in the normal way. Unlike Uryu or Chad, he skipped school and locked himself in this limited amount of space that was getting too cramped for a growing, healthy adolescent. He _had it bad_. Any people would see through that, but not Ichigo. Hell, Rukia would have given anything to see her close friend beat up like this.

Where did Rukia go, anyways? She hadn't paid Kon a visit since Ichigo came back, bruised and battered from his battle with Aizen. Scratch that, Kon didn't even get the familiar, tingling feeling he'd get whenever his favourite Soul Reaper showed up. Rangiku, too – the two hot babes were gone. Nada.

"Where did Rukia-neechan go? I miss her…" Kon lamented out loud. He waited, seeing if Ichigo would take the bait.

The chair rolled backwards as the seventeen-year-old stood up, clenching his fists tightly over his badge.

There was a mini streak of blue light, and after Kon rubbed his eyes, Ichigo was gone.

To Urahara's drugstore, then to Soul Society. No doubt Urahara would have to give way for the deputy soul reaper.

Kon had barely enough time to react, when the door banged apart. A pair of heavy feet stomped into the small room, and the doll, in his temporary state of doll-like stillness, heard the man of the house expel a long breath. Thick and long fingers suddenly wrapped themselves around Kon's soft midriff, and he gazed into Kurosaki Isshin's coal-black eyes blankly. For some reason, his button eyes seemed to be burning. He had the urge to blink, but it would automatically give him away.

"Where did Ichigo go?" The doctor asked softly, giving the plush toy in his hands a rough shake. Kon was sweating bullets, unable to move, and at the same time, fearing for his own sad life of a Mod Soul stuck in a stuffed lion's body.

"Hm… I guess he isn't around here." Isshin threw Kon away, causing the lion to bounce a few times before landing onto Ichigo's blue sheets.

There were rustlings and things being shifted in the closet, and finally, Isshin left the room quietly.

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A/N: So there's the start of Orihime's life in Soul Society! Isshin wants to confront Ichigo, but has yet to do so, when Ichigo heads to Soul Society himself to find Rukia! What will Ichigo do? Will Orihime find him, and ultimately, recognise her former (?) love? Find out in the next chapter of** Rediscovery**!

…and I promise it'll be longer. 3000 words above.

Please review! I really appreciate knowing what you guys think!


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